….as it slowly comes to me that where I am is in motion, I force my mind backwards to try and recall what I last remember ….as I look around the interior of the truck’s unit, which is mostly empty
in fact, I realize that it was this fact that caused me to wake out of the sleepy fog I somehow got put under ….put under…. ? for now, as the truck takes a turn, I am thrown across the floor of the truck’s studio sized container unit like a pinball and have to reach my arms out and search for something stable to hold onto —as I’m jettisoned and rolled around, and no, I don’t really need to search, though, as I collide into the answer; the only other object in the truck’s container unit besides me, I now am struck against as I encounter it—a Volvo excavator
should I wonder? But no, out in the middle of farmland and rural country, these really are everywhere. I don’t question. Instead, I grab hold of a part of the step up to the door to stabilize myself and wait for the truck to return to its normal speed on the highway. When it does I haul myself up to the carriage of it and climb inside it, anchoring myself into the seat. I look around inside it trying to figure out if it could be useful if I found out how to start it and managed to…. specifically as a defense or way to get out of here
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